Lost Years of Murtagh Morzansson
by FalconFate
Summary: A side-fic one-shot to SoL, from the time Murtagh arrived in Urû'baen to the time he fired his first arrow on the Ra'zac. Would not suggest reading before Secrets of Life.


**A/N: I am just doing a random little itty-bitty thingamabob. Don't mind me, just an unpopular author, writing away...**

**DISCLAIMERS: As this is IC based, I must say this: I'M NOT CHRISTOPHER PAOLINI! Is it really that shocking? As unbelievable as it may seem, I do not own the following: Murtagh, Galbatorix, or Tornac. **

**However, I do have my own rights. As this is a side-fic one-shot to SoL, I own Storm, random servants, random people, and random animals. Ta. **

**Begins after two or three weeks after Raven leaves...**

I looked at the room with a dismal gaze. It was small, and simple; a bed in the corner, a dresser, a desk and chair, even a private washroom. Beside me, Storm sniffed the air. "What do you think?" I asked her. She cocked her head, then appeared to shrug. I walked over to the bed and set my pack on it, then stretched myself over it, closing my eyes. A bump and a dip in the mattress told me that the she-wolf had climbed up after me. With her there, I always had someone to talk to. Almost as if Raven was here with me.

_Raven... _

I still couldn't go a day without thinking about her. I wondered where she was, if she was alright. If she wondered about me, or had completely forgotten. Often, I found myself fingering the pendant, and I always remembered that I had a lot to thank her for. Being a friend, when many would have run at the sight of the son of Morzan. Keeping me sane, when my father would have driven me mad. Being there, where my mother should have been. Always a comfort, a light in a void of darkness.

Now Storm was all I had left, and I had a feeling she knew more than your average wolf. Was more than an untamed, wild beast. More like a person than an animal. Here in Urû'baen, I would almost definitely need her.

A knock on the door brought me out of my musings, and I opened my eyes. "Yes?"

A man came in, nodding to me. "Good evening. I am Tornac, your, ah, servant, for the time being." I nodded, and he smiled. He was short, but built like someone in the king's army. He had short-cropped, sandy colored hair and peircing blue eyes, which studied Storm intensely. She shifted and growled slightly. "A fine companion you have there," he commented.

I nodded. "Her name is Storm,"

"Fitting..." he murmured, then he switched his gaze to me. "And yours would be...?"

I gave him a flat look. "Murtagh."

He nodded, and seemed to turn the information over in his head. "Well, I'm not here to clean rooms, though I am a servant. If you would meet me in the dining hall tomorrow morning, I will show you what I'm really here for," he smiled kindly. I nodded, keeping my face expressionless, and he left.

I sighed, then turned to Storm. "Looks like a long day tommorrow."

She gave me a look that said _All the more reason to sleep tonight. _I chuckled.

(linebreak)

The next morning, Storm and I met Tornac in the dining hall, as promised. I broke my fast as he explained that he would be teaching me swordplay, tactics and horsemanship, along with other subjects. Storm also seemed to be listening intently, and again I wondered if she was what she seemed to be. After we ate, he led us down to the training grounds, and there we started a daily routine. Every morning, I would awake, wash, dress and eat, then head down to the grounds. Then it was hard training with blade, mind, and riding. After, we took a break, before going to the map room. There, I would study the geography of Alagaësia, tactical battle plans, and study history. There soon came a time when we also studied the political stance of things.

After almost ten years, I was a different person than the friendless, eight-year-old boy who had arrived at the castle. Now, I was nearing my eighteenth year, and Storm was somehow still with me. The gray wolf didn't seem to age, never slowed her pace of things, and was always fit. I was just as fit, with hardened muscles, and skin tanned from training in the sun and heat. My face was always hard-set, cold and emotionless, my hands calloused, and my mind fortified. I thought on my feet and with my blade. I had named the horse I had recieved as a foal Tornac, in honor of the mentor who had given me so much, and taught me even more. These were the greatest ten years of my life, barring the two I had spent with my first real friend.

I should have known it couldn't last.

On the day of my eighteenth, I was called to an audience with the king. Dinner, even. And, he had specified that Storm wasn't able to accompany me. Or so the messenger said. I had a feeling he had invented this, if past experience with the man had taught me anything, but in later years, I realized I was glad he had done so.

I stepped through the huge oaken doors, to find King Galbatorix, seated at one end of the mile-long table, another chair and plate set near the man. Immediately, I felt... _something, _grazing my mind, just barely, then retreating before I could put any sort of barrier around my conscious. The king motioned towards the seat beside him, and I hurried to obey the silent order.

Dinner was uneventful. I made two attempts to get him to talk, yet neither made him so much as blink or turn his head. It was only after we had finished the last course that he spoke.

"Well, Murtagh, son of my friend, I trust you have enjoyed you stay at the palace?"

That voice... It made my skin crawl and my mind go blank. It was a moment before I gathered the wits to respond. "I-I have, my lord."

"Good. Your training is going well? Your mentor is satisfactory?"

"Yes."

He continued like this for several minutes, all the while drawing me under an enchantment, the likes of a snake hypnotizing a young bird, until he finally started onto different matters. "Now, my boy, if I asked you to fight for me... Lead a raid, perhaps... Would you?"

I hesitated for the slightest moment, then answered. "Yes."

(linebreak)

I nudged Tornac up to a trot. The last raid had been successful, and I wanted to report to the king as soon as possible. I reached the stables and dismounted, leading the gray charger to the stablehand, who immediately took the reins and guided him in. I then turned and made my way to the throne room, taking stairs two at a time. Finally, I pushed open the great ebony doors, and was greeted with a scene that changed everything.

The king was yelling, the words echoing and bouncing off the walls, and after a minute I deemed he was schreeching something about the Varden. As I stood there, unnoticed, I could feel whatever enchantment he had earlier placed over me slip away. Finally, before he could notice me, I turned around, closing the two great doors, and silently slipped away.

(linebreak)

We planned for weeks. Tornac had been surprised when I burst into his quarters and informed him we would be leaving soon. He took it in stride, starting to plan out where we would go, what we needed, etcetera. Storm seemed to find more time for me, staying closer to me than my shadow. I was glad for her constant company, for after that fateful dinner, she had steered clear of me, and I had hardly seen her.

Three weeks after the raid, we were ready. We waited till dark, knowing that rain, clouds and a lack of moonlight would help us get away. When we first stepped out the doors, it was only a faint drizzle, but by the time the horses were saddled, it was a downpour. We had made it to the gate, and, seeing that it was still open, quietly walked through it.

We thought we had made it.

The truth was, I was Luck's personal enemy.

A flash of lightning revealed the soldiers waiting for us. They sprang, just as I shouted to Tornac to look out. After that, it was a bloody confusion. I briefly saw Storm, fighting as fierce as any dragon, before she disappeared again. Tornac and I fought side-by-side, and finally made it out of the center of the throng. We were on foot now, the horses rearing and plunging nearby. Storm was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered briefly if she had left at last. Then all thoughts were swept from my mind as Tornac gave a cry and fell. "No!" He gave one last look at me, mouthing something.

_Keep moving. _Run.

And I did. Ran to the huge gray horse, got him to settle down enough to mount him. I gave one last look at the horse's namesake, then turned and galloped away. It was an hour before I made it to the estate, bone-weary and soaked through. A butler, upon recognizing me (not an easy feat), took me to a guest room while a young groom led Tornac to the stable. There was a fire in the hearth, and a warm bed. I barely had time to change out of my wet things before falling on the bed and to sleep, hardly noticing that Storm wasn't there.

(linebreak)

It's been a month and a half since Tornac died. The first three days at the Killham Estate were gray and depressed. After those three days of mourning, I picked up a routine. Awake, dress, wash, eat, train, sleep, awake. Over and over. I occasionally stopped to listen to the latest news that Barst Killham, lord of the estate and grounds, recieved from the court.

After I heard that Galbatorix was looking for me, and seeing that glint in Barst's eye, I knew I would have to leave. After another fortnight, I tacked Tornac up and left for Dras Leona.

Once there, I heard rumors that the Ra'zac were around. Hunting. I took the chance to strike a blow to the king, tracking down the vicious creatures.

I found them a week later. Their tracks, anyways. I followed them until nightfall, and spotted an orange glint through the trees. Fire. I was running now, close to the ground, briefly pausing to picket Tornac. I reached a small clearing, taking in the campsite before me. On one side of the fire, two figures were tied up. On the other, a huge sapphire shape was chained to the ground, and Murtagh's eyes recognized a dragon–smaller than his father's had been, but still large. The Ra'zac were arguing over them in clicks and clacks, and I took the time to examine the prisoners.

One was an old man, unconscious, and I couldn't make out much else, though he looked...familiar. The other was a boy, maybe two or three years my junior. Pale brown hair was all I saw of him, yet that too looked familiar. After several minutes, the boy stirred, and the Ra'zac immediately fell silent. A moment later, one started speaking lowly. I couldn't make out the words.

Finally, I lifted my bow, aimed, and fired.

**A/N: well? Did you like it, dear reader? This was just something I decided to do today... And I think it clears things up a bit!**

**Thanks to Restrained Freedom for pointing out that Saph was missing. Many thanks! **

**Falcon**


End file.
